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Love poem

little love poem

... tragedy is always sung passionately loud...

Rumble, rumble, falling and descending, the tones they crash like thunder...

I am falling through space

Its harps ever defining kindness in a slow-pace sequence, its cellos plundered into a melancholy tantrum that of ancestral lovers.

Little poem in mute nights

"Thus was the Mistress of Death witchery's strength"

...depending on which kind of monstrosities they can refine and deepen the not so living world.

...I smile, badly, but I do it, and I see what I don’t usually see, what most of the times I’m afraid to even share with others...